Freaky Friday: JCS Edition
by not-the-devil-yet
Summary: "...and he was not Jesus Christ. He was only Judas Iscariot, that was it. Nothing special. Nothing holy. Nothing pure." A fic inspired by the Gospel of Barnabas. Perhaps the man crucified on the cross was not who you believed it to be, etc. etc.


**A/N: This is inspired by reading of the Gospel of Barnabas, which says that Judas was transformed soon after the betrayal to look like Jesus and that it was in fact _he_ who was crucified and such, not the Galilean we tend to believe. If you believe yourself to be offended by such material matter, I highly suggest you turn back now. It can only go downhill from here.**

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He had thought it all over. He had reconsidered his options dozens of times. He had imagined what it would be like; over and over and over again, he had imagined his best friend's face, his expression of disgust and resentment and regret and all of those emotions he had never before seen Jesus possess. Somehow, it was still unreal. Here he was, surrounded by all of his sleeping acquaintances, standing face to face with the man he had just turned over to the authorities with just one simple kiss, standing face to face, toe to toe with-

Nobody.

He was alone. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, he was alone. The rest of the apostles were still fast asleep, the guards were still distant, but within sight. Jesus was gone. He had just been here, Judas knew that he had, but now he wasn't. Just like that. So simple, yet it bothered him so much. Jesus couldn't be gone; he was needed to finish his favorite follower's mission. The thirty silver coins (though he didn't want them), the satisfaction of "saving" Israel (though he didn't need it)...it was all pointless without Jesus. And so, with a quiet, frustrated sigh (one that sounded different even to his own ears), Judas rushed over to awake one of his so-called friends. Maybe they had seen Jesus leave, maybe they knew where he went. Maybe...

"Peter," he whispered, ignoring the softer than usual tone of his own voice as he gently shook the sleeping apostle. "Peter, wake up. Where has Jesus gone? Peter..."

The man awoke slowly, rubbed his eyes before shooting Judas a rather confused glance. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his answer obviously just as quiet as the question.

"I mean what I said; where is Jesus?"  
"Right here...? I don't understand what you are asking of me..."

Okay, Peter was of no help.

_(Maybe Mary will be...)_

For once, despite past anger towards her, Judas put his distaste for Mary aside and willed himself to go to her tent, to go so far as to even wake her up from her peaceful slumber. He supposed it was his frantic disposition and, to be quite honest, his company in general that gave her such a confused expression when she was finally awoken. After all, it wasn't every day that Judas Iscariot rushed around camp for _anything_, much less in search of their supposed savior. Perhaps that was why, he figured, that when he asked her where Jesus had gone off to, she only stared at him in confusion.

"What?" she replied quietly after a few moments' thought.

"I _said_," he huffed. "Do you know where Jesus has gone?"

She paused again, probably thought the question over once more. Still, she looked confused. Did nobody around here speak English? Was he speaking in some foreign language that nobody could understand? How difficult was it to answer a yes or no question? Finally, she asked, "Are you sick?"

"What?"  
"Are you well?"

"Of course I'm w-" he stopped mid-sentence, glared a bit at her in annoyance. "You're not going to answer my question, are you?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you..."

"I want you to tell me where Jesus is!" he proclaimed before being abruptly cut off by someone, some_ones_, grabbing his arms. He looked to his left-

_(a Roman guard?)_

and he looked to his right-

_(another Roman guard?)_

before finally looking ahead, past Mary and Peter and all of the others, and saw-

_(Annas? Caiaphas?)_

"Hey, let go of me!" he demanded as he desperately tried to free himself from the guards' grips. Why were they holding him captive? That wasn't the plan! _He_ wasn't the one who was to be arrested; Jesus was. And he was not Jesus Christ. He was only Judas Iscariot, that was it. Nothing special. Nothing holy. Nothing pure. "Let _go_ of me. _I'm_ not the one you're to be arresting! I'm-"

"You are Jesus Christ, are you not?" a voice

_(Annas, that bastard)_

spoke up above the quiet chaos, and Judas only glared at him in frustration. The guy's tone sounded mocking, his voice was full of bitterness and humor and all things inappropriate for the time being. This wasn't a joke. Had he been framed? Had he himself been betrayed by someone else? It didn't make any sense. He tried again to break free from the guards' grips, an attempt that was failed but not forgotten as he soon tried again, and again...but still all to no avail. He soon settled for just standing there in their holds, glaring at the pair of high priests that now had moved to stand before him.

"I'm not Jesus." he finally muttered. "You're both fools if you think me to be Jesus. Didn't I lead you two here? Didn't I confess to you where he would be and when? You _paid_ me for this!" he gave escaping one more try to prove his point somehow, but only ended up failing again. "Let _go_ of me..."

"Hm, you're even more insane than we previously believed." the shorter of the two high priests spoke again, addressed Judas, before turning his attention to the guards that held the apostle captive. "Take him to Pilate. Let's see how long he keeps this act up."

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**A/N: I will continue this at some point. Hope ya enjoyed it thus far! :)**


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